Healing Magic?
by NevaRyadL
Summary: Really? Smut with little plot. Hawke visits his uncle and then seeks his lover Fenris for comfort afterwards. Top!Fenris/Bottom!MaleMageHawke


This sat on my computer for gods know how long before I finished it. And when I tried to upload it, FF bugged out on me. So now here it is!

WARNING! This work contains m/m sex. If you do not agree with, or find this uncomfortable, then please do not read. Go bother someone else who will not just laugh their ass off at your childish and caveman thinking. Otherwise? Please enjoy the story.

PS This is also written in a present tense, so if I done fucked up, I'm sorry, I never write in this tense. And if you want to go through and gently make note of things that can be fixed or corrected before I can pass this on to my beta, then please PM me.

* * *

It all starts when Hawke decides to pay his uncle Gamlen a visit. Which is not… terribly strange, even less so when he brings Fenris, Isabella and Aveline so that they can immediately run out to do favors and quests afterwards.

Sure, it is strange that Hawke was visiting a man that, was a city wide known fact that he detests. But Hawke has also proven that he cares for his family, even those that really deserved to be rotting somewhere in Darktown, if the money he manages to make being put back towards his sister, brother and even a few rare coins to this uncle being any indication.

So down they went from Hightown and into Lowtown and towards the house that Hawke once called a home. Hawke knocks on the door, features completely still as they waited for Gamlen to haul his drunken ass up from whatever corner he was weeping in about his misfortune.

"Come on Hawke, can't we do this another time?" Isabela whines.

"No Isabela, I have not visited him since…" His blonde head dips as he recalls the horrific event that claimed his mother "…it will be nice to see how he is doing"

"Drunk and miserable like always, can we go now? Your uncle's house smells like old cheese"

Hawke throws her a cold glare that only has her sighing, crossing her arms and tapping one of her feet in impatience. Aveline sighs, scowling at the pirate. Fenris, who was standing by Hawke's side as he usually does, reaches out and gently brushes his fingers across the back of Hawke's left hand. The glare softens and he gives Fenris his best attempt at a smile, which only really turns into a beaten down sort of half smile that makes even Fenris want to pity him.

But Hawke is not a man to enjoy being pitied on, not after all the years of being treated like trash for being a mage, having his sister taken away and then blamed for it, his brother becoming a templar and the verbal abuse reaching an all time high, hearing all the two cents people have to give about mages, the Qunari and how they wanted to bring him into the Qun only to collar him like the other mages, now his mother dying and visiting Gamlen only to hear it again how the wretched man hated Hawke for being a mage.

Fenris cannot help but feel a sharp pain in his chest, the guilt of having done the same to Hawke as so many others had done to him since he was a child. He had called Hawke horrible things, blamed him for so many things that were never really his fault to begin with, blamed magic for all the wrongs in his life. He had seen that deep seated misery and felt nothing. He had even felt joy to see such crushing sadness in his eyes.

He reaches out and gently took Hawke's hand into his own. Hawke allows it, letting Fenris' gauntleted fingers wrap around his long and pale ones. But his expression did not change, remaining stony and expressionless as they waited for Gamlen to hurry his drunken ass up.

How long did he need to don such a mask? Worn it to protect himself from all the venomous words thrown at him like daggers, protect himself from receiving even more abuse if he reacted, worn it to simply make the pain stop?

Scowling, Fenris uses his free hand to reach up, grabs hold of Hawke's chin and then pulls his head down enough for a long kiss that had Isabella cooing in delight and Aveline shifting uncomfortably as her face turns even redder then her hair. And despite the audience, Fenris does not let Hawke go until there is a bit of color in his otherwise deathly pale cheeks.

Hawke's icy eyes have the faintest spark of something in them, and then Gamlen opens the door and it is gone.

"What do you want boy?" Gamlen drunkenly slurs.

"Visiting uncle" Hawke says coldly "I wanted to see how you were doing"

The drunken lout grumbles, but then sees Isabella and Aveline, and shuffles aside to let them all in.

Fenris could feel Hawke's body tensing besides him, likely remembering harsh words and a harsher family, but the hand that Fenris has captured was still his to keep, so the Mage has to be dealing with it fairly well.

Gamlen makes a general motion for them to get comfortable, though between standing, a rotting couch and a dirty table, standing seems the most comfortable. Though Isabella still takes the table despite the dirtiness, making sure to discreetly close her legs to avoid Gamlen's leering eyes, before plucking up a half empty wine bottle and taking a few experimental sips. Aveline joins Hawke and Fenris in standing, her nose crinkling in disgust.

Hawke and Gamlen talk, mostly Hawke listening to Gamlen about how pitiful he was and how hard his life was but not really making note about what he was doing to work on it. Hawke offers some money, which Gamlen immediately takes up on, gold coins slipped from Hawke's perfect fingers into Gamlen's dirty ones.

He still has a hold of the other one, grip borderline painful. And the drunken lout took notice of this. After the usual, dirty minded chuckling he spouted a line

"So? You and the elf eh? Not hard to see which of you the girl in that relationship is" Gamlen chuckles like he was so clever.

If only-

"Actually it is hard" Hawke says bitterly cold "Because as you so eloquently put it, the girl in our relationship is me"

Gamlen sputters, trips and fumbles with his words, not really sure what to say. But when he manages to say something, it is an elegant

"W-what?"

"Gamlen, let me use small words so you get it" Hawke says deadly serious like "I take it up the ass like a bitch"

He then bows and says a farewell before pulling a very stunned Fenris, a very smug Isabella and a very red faced Aveline out the door of the dirty little house that held so many terrible memories.

He's still holding onto that perfect hand, refusing to let go until Hawke has to reach for his staff to kill some Lowtown thugs.

* * *

Hawke does not like to be in his own home, something of a habit of his since being a child no doubt. He simply cannot rest his head in the same building as the family that curses and abuses him.

His first few years in Kirkwall, Aveline says that he went and slept in Ander's clinic (also a reason why the two knew each other before even Hawke and Varric knew each other). And when Hawke had met him, Hawke had a habit of sleeping over under the pretenses of tracing every little bit of magic and rooting it out until he passed out from exhaustion. Now after all they had been through, Hawke always sleeps curled up against him for some minuscule comfort during the treacherous nights of nightmares.

So it is not surprise that after a long day of adventuring, well after the sun has set on the white city of chains, Hawke simples follows him home. And underneath the pale moonlight, Hawke's pale skin and hair looks all the more pale, like the physical form of a god, or some sickly ghost. Like he is there but not really there and… It truly frightens the wolf that he will simply vanish.

He has a hold of one of Hawke's hands, the other one this time, but it is still as beautiful as the other. The pale smooth skin over elegantly long and soft fingertips, smooth and cool to the touch like finely crafted marble. It is warm from being held for so long, but the warmth only gives him a bit of hope that Hawke is not totally dead on the inside yet, that there was still something there to cling too.

They reach the mansion and enter to the last few candles still burning.

Since Hawke's unofficial to his official move in, they have been steadily working on rebuilding the mansion, making it livable enough for at least them to live in. Though he had been loath to do anything with it before, after Hawke taking the liberty of staying up three days to haul rubbish out, he had joined in. Now all the bodies were gone, the floors more or less swept, furniture moved back to their proper places or tossed, candles lit, fires roaring, and the place does seem comfortable.

He leads them to the little room they had set up to sleep in. It was once a room for a few slaves, but now it was home to a large pile of pillows, mattresses and blankets that Hawke had once called a 'love nest'. He still likes to think of it that way, even if now Hawke simply calls it bed.

Hawke never likes to wear The Champion's armor that the city had commissioned for him. He says that it makes him look like he uses blood magic. Must be the sharp points that the lone gauntlet wields, they look perfect for cutting into Hawke's tender white flesh. So in its stead he wears layers and layers of clothing that can hide him from his head to his toes. After peeling away two layers, Fenris is noticeably growing impatient with the barriers between the two.

"Damn all these buckles and buttons" He mutters under his breath.

Hawke let's out something that sounds suspiciously amused and Fenris cocks an eyebrow and smirks wickedly. He then presses his thumb down over where he knows Hawke's nipple is and the next sound to come out is something far less amused and far more...wanton.

"I will tease you through your clothing if I have too Hawke" Fenris teases as he grinds down on the hardening nub, pushing up against the confines of his clothing.

Face flushing a lovely pale pink, Hawke lifts his pretty hands up to aid in the process of stripping himself until finally his pale and nearly flawless chest is exposed to the air. Taking advantage, Fenris leans forward and licks along the white line that marks its way from Hawke's collarbone to his left shoulder, making his Mage shudder and color that bit more.

He has asked about that scar before, but Hawke would always get a faraway look in his eye and say that he would not like to talk about it and Fenris was never one to press. Still, it bothers the wolf to see something that looks so much like it was made from a sword on an otherwise flawless man.

He reaches forward and tugs at the laces of Hawke's trousers until they come loose and then tumble down Hawke's narrow hips down to his ankles, making the tent in his breech cloth very present. Hawke is a ruddy red color now across his cheeks

Hawke is a beautiful man, like someone went through and handpicked all the finest features and gave them to him. Hawke calls his looks a curse, and Fenris is inclined to believe sometimes. The wolf has seen the way people gaze at him, devour his image with their eyes, seen the lust cloud their faces as they face him.

At first he too had been enthralled with Hawke's looks, enchanted by his features. But then Hawke was revealed to be a Mage, and for the longest time the wolf could only see him as a demon in real form, temptation and desire given flesh and form. But then Hawke had found his way into the wolf's heart and now Fenris can only feel possessive over his beautiful Mage.

Possessiveness that Fenris is sure that shows in the way he lavishes his mouth against his mage's mouth. He starts out slow and gentle, sweet and tender to make all the tensed muscles in Hawke's body slowly relax. When Hawke finally sighs into the kiss, and wraps his arms around Fenris' shoulders, the wolf presses his tongue forward to taste his mage's lips.

He has to take several tastes of Hawke's mouth for his Mage to finally part his sweet lips and allow the wolf in. And when the wolf is finally let in, he sets to ravishing it like his name sake. He tastes every inch of Hawke's soft mouth, running tongue over teeth, along the smooth sides, wrestles with his mage's shy tongue for a bit until he sucks it into his mouth and persists to torment it until Hawke starts grinding his hips into Fenris'

The wolf grabs Hawke's hips and strengthens the grinding, pressing forward with his superior strength until Hawke let's out something that sounds suspiciously like a moan. And a sudden desire to taste the man becomes too much.

His tongue is across Hawke's chest, sweeping across planes of lean muscle. Occasionally he briefly tastes a pale nipple, to hear the pleasured gasp come from Hawke's panting lips, sometimes to feel the hard little nubs underneath his tongue. And only when he looks up to see Hawke's ruddy cheeks, needy eyes and wet and begging to be ravished mouth, does he decide that his beautiful Mage deserves something more.

Hawke's trousers are still around his ankles, so it is rather easy to give him a light push to have him sprawl out on their love nest. And seeing such a lovely creature, practically begging with his whole body for a long fuck, sets something off in Fenris. He briskly strips everything off himself in seconds and is then laying on Hawke, pressing their slightly tacky chests together. The wolf feels Hawke's fluttering heartbeat against his own and it drives him to lay claim to what is his, playfully biting down on his Mage's sweat slick throat.

Hawke gasps and then groans throatily as Fenris sucks on the skin and lavishes his tongue across it, marking Hawke's perfect throat with wet, red hickies. When he feels that his Mage's throat is properly marked he moves downward, marking the pale planes with more wet hickies. He makes sure to nip and suckle on hard little nubs until they become red and peaked, like little soldiers the wolf thinks humorously, before moving onward. He dips his tongue in the lines of his mage's abs and then his navel.

And then he encounters Hawke's tented breech cloth, smirking first because he knows that his Mage can hardly take anymore teasing, before running his lips along the side of the clothed erection. This makes something primal and delicious slip from his mage's mouth, which earns another run of lips.

"Fenris... I can't... Anymore" Hawke manages to moan.

True to his word, there is a wet spot in Hawke's breeches and his clothed erection is twitching of its own accord. It seems that just a little more teasing would make him spend himself, but Fenris is not cruel enough to make Hawke soil his clothing, so instead the wolf hooks his fingers into the material and pulls it downward until Hawke's weeping cock is exposed to the air. His Mage gasps but still does not spend himself, giving Fenris precious seconds to quickly tug off Hawke's breech cloth, trousers, boots and socks, leaving his Mage naked and sprawled out on their love nest.

He wants to admire his Mage, the white gold strands of hair fanned out around his head, those once icy eyes now warm and watery and begging, those lovely thin lips wet and panting, wintry skin marked with red hickies and the smooth erect shaft of his lover. But Hawke is about two seconds from releasing on his own and that would be no fun, and the wolf has a perverse and wicked idea.

The oil they would normally use was hidden off to the side, and would take time not available to look for, so instead Fenris just dips his head and swallows Hawke whole, feeling the hot and hard flesh slide across his tongue and then bump the back of his throat. And that is all it takes for Hawke to lose it, screaming out whorishly as he comes in the wolf's mouth.

Fenris likes to see Hawke when he is coming, see all those pesky mental barriers break and see that usual stoic face warp in pleasure. To see blue eyes practically cross in pleasure and to see his usually tempting mouth become even more tempting as it falls open in his cry of pleasure. To see that the man is finally living instead of a hallow husk.

Pulling back, letting Hawke's half limp erection fall from his mouth with a perverse pop, Fenris sticks two fingers into the warm and gooey mess still inside his mouth and swirls them around, getting them thoroughly coated in the seed, before pulling them out and swallowing the rest. Thin, shiny threads connect his slimy fingers and his shiny lips, and Hawke blushes a beautiful red as he realizes what the wolf has in mind.

But the mage spreads his legs open further, shifts his beautiful ass up a bit more to give the wolf full access, and bites his lip in anticipation. And seeing such a sexy creature submit, well, it makes the wolf very hungry for more.

First, Fenris puts his mouth to good use and presses kisses to the sensitive skin between Hawke's hip and leg, pressing firm and wet kisses that have the mage writhing, rolling his hips in tiny circles for more stimulation. It distract him from enough from the wolf's sly fingers, one of which start pressing forward, slipping between Hawke's cheeks to reach the little pink ring hidden there. He presses just a little bit, not enough to breach but enough to give it a firm enough rub to have Hawke gasping and writhing even more.

"F-fenris" Hawke pants.

"Hmm?" Fenris hums against the sensitive skin, making Hawke moan.

He wants his mage to ask, to beg really, for what was to come next. He wants to hear those dirty words tumble from those lovely lips, wants to hear his mage say he wants to be fucked. The anticipation makes Fenris throb.

"P-please… please… more" Hawke whines, rolling his hips in a feeble attempt to make the finger go deeper.

"More what, Hawke?" Fenris says low, his voice thick and low with desire "You must be specific"

"Fenris" Hawke whines, needy and high and in such a needy voice that it makes Fenris want more, but not so much to not wait for those words.

Gritting his teeth, realizing that his attempts to make the wolf hurry were in vain, so he opens those lovely lips and begs

"Please, hurry up and… fuck me"

Smiling, Fenris wriggles that finger in through the tight opening, hearing Hawke gasp and moan in pleasure as he works the still slightly warm seed into the velvety insides. Perhaps a bit more, knowing that it is his own seed lubricating himself.

The wolf focuses first on just getting the opening nice and wet, thoroughly with his mage's seed. And then rubbing the insides further in, rubbing them into submission. It was after those insides start to try and suck him in and clenching down on that finger greedily, and Hawke's groans and whines fill with frustration, that Fenris slips a second finger in besides the first.

Now he focuses on opening the little opening, working it open little by little as Hawke whines and moans, rolling his hips in impatient little circles.

"You're clamping down on me" Fenris notes, feeling those delicious insides try to suck his finger deeper in.

"B-Because I want you" Hawke pants

"And have me, you do" Fenris smirks.

His fingers come out with a wet pop, slick with seed and Hawke's own natural lubricants. The sound makes his mage's face burn a lovely red, icy blue eyes following the wolf as he straightened up and crouches over his prize.

There are no words. Neither of them is good with them anyway, with how dark and bitter the wolf is on the inside and how cutting words are to Hawke. Besides, Hawke is already hard and aching again, and rutting against his lover only makes his own desire more apparent, feeling the need to seal his dominance over Hawke all the more.

He ruts for a moment, feeling sparks of pleasure as hard flesh rubs against hard flesh. Hearing Hawke moan and pant beneath him, see that near flawless white skin flush in arousal, feel the heat and sweat of their bodies. He smells the sweat and arousal, something so thick in the air it makes his head all fuzzy and brings his arousal to a higher level.

The wolf pulls back, grabbing a hold of his hard shaft and nudges it down, rubbing the wet head down Hawke's, then further down to his balls, then underneath them to finally prod at Hawke's more than ready entrance.

"F-Fucking do it" Hawke pants.

Smirking, Fenris finally pushes forward, feeling the head push past the still slightly tight ring of muscle into Hawke's hot and silky insides. Feels those silky walls clamp down on him, clench around him and then try and suck him in further.

And there are no words to describe the pleasure. Just that it is there and all consuming, devouring the wolf's thoughts as he pulls back, managing to pull his shaft back from those clenching, silky insides, only to push agonizingly slowly back in. The pleasure is just perfect, and that is all there needs to be.

He grabs a hold of Hawke's white, digging his fingers into the lean muscles for a better grip as he starts to increase the rate of his slow thrusting gradually but surely. Hawke's intestines clench down harder, but with some effort his mage relaxes, and the thrusting can finally get faster, and faster, and by the Maker, it can get deeper, until Fenris is wildly thrusting balls deep into Hawke.

Hawke is moaning and crying out loudly beneath him, pretty hands clenching the sheets underneath him as he vocalizes his pleasure. Hawke tries to thrust his hips downward to meet Fenris' thrusts, but Fenris is going too fast to match, so the mage finally just lets the wolf have his wild way, letting the wolf thrust wildly into his body with abandon.

"F-Fen" Hawke moans loudly.

Fenris leans over and presses his mouth to Hawke's tempting mouth, mashing his lips, teeth and tongues in something wetter and hotter than a kiss. He lets Hawke taste the lingering taste of come, before devouring Hawke's mouth and its sweet taste. He sucks Hawke's tongue into his mouth and sucks on it.

Hawke clenches around him tightly, and moans loudly into Fenris' mouth.

He feels it, building in his lower belly, and wanting to fill Hawke. He needs to empty it into his mage, mark him in the most permanent and potent way possible. And he feels Hawke's want to be marked.

So he pulls back with a wet smack, lifting one of Hawke's long and tossing it over his shoulder, and starts to thrust faster and harder into Hawke's body. He feels Hawke's body try to clench around him, suck him in, but unable to with how fast and hard Fenris is going. And he has to relax his body, let Fenris go wild.

Pounding away, Fenris' fingers digs in Hawke's thighs, feeling his release build and build until finally-

"FENRIS!" Hawke cries out, insides clamping down tightly around the wolf while the mage releases all over his stomach and chest.

That tightening is all that Fenris needs to release, feeling that building pressure snap and empty into Hawke, pumping his seed into Hawke's hungry insides while his mind reels from the pleasure of it. Time becomes fuzzy as all he can think about it filling Hawke up and the pleasure of doing so. It seems like forever, it seems like a few seconds, but Fenris feels a bit sadden when it does finally end.

Hawke pants beneath him, his sweaty chest heaving with each breath and his delicious lip wet, and opening with his breathing. The long strands of the mage's golden blonde hair are stuck to his own face, shoulders and neck. Overall, Hawke still looks beautiful beyond all comparison, and dead sexy. But the now limp member, drooping towards his stomach and the sticky seed across his abs and belly, are telling signs that Hawke is spent.

Fenris dips down and places a kiss on Hawke's sweaty forehead, before gently pulling out of Hawke's body, noting the small grunt of discomfort from his mage, letting his own spent member pull from Hawke's sticky insides. He then lays to the side of his mage and gently starts brushing hair away from Hawke's face.

A few moments later, Hawke flips onto his side to be face to face with Fenris. His icy blue eyes lock onto Fenris' own light eyes. No words pass for some time, and then Hawke's lips move.

"My uncle is a terrible person, why can't I let him just drown?" The mage asks the wolf.

Fenris just smiles before he leans forward and presses a kiss to Hawke's mouth.

"Because, you're better than him, no matter what anyone says or has said to you. You're a great person, Hawke, don't change because of your ass for an uncle"

Hawke rewards Fenris with a beautiful smile.


End file.
